How To Cheer Up A Man
by the ramblin rose
Summary: Caryl, Au. Oneshot. Daryl lost his job and Carol needs to cheer him up. Rated for language/suggestion.


**AN: This is just a fun little one shot to a Tumblr request to use a certain line. It's been on my list for ages, but I finally have something for it.**

 **I own nothing from the Walking Dead.**

 **I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think!**

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It was all just _new_ for the both of them. They were _learning_.

Daryl, by his own admission, had never had a relationship before. He'd been out with a few women—and maybe even made it to the second or third date—but there was never anything _there_. What he was looking for, they just weren't offering.

Carol suspected that the problem was that Daryl was looking for something almost pre-made. By the time that they'd gone out on their second date, there was a comfortableness there that made Carol think that anyone who observed them might have thought they were married for at least a few years. That's just how Daryl was. It was how he was made. Feeling like he had to work for it too much—like there was pressure to _impress_ —just made him shut down. He craved comfort. He loved something sure. He didn't want to wonder if you'd want another date with him or if this was the last one. He simply wanted to know that more were coming—and that they'd keep coming.

He liked security, and the kind of woman that he wanted was a woman who was going to offer him plenty of that.

Lucky for him, Carol happened to like that about him, and she had no problem with offering security in return for the same.

Because Carol had already had a different kind of relationship. She'd been in the type of relationship that was a practical hurricane. She'd tried to ride out the storm with Ed only to realize that—if she stayed—her ship would certainly be sunk. It wasn't getting any better. There was no relief and help wasn't on the way.

She was tired of excitement, if that's what people called excitement.

So after three years of being single and trying to figure out what she even wanted out of life, she was pleased to find a man like Daryl.

Owing to Daryl's desire to move instantly from dating to settled, or owing to Carol's contentment to go along with it as long as it continued to move as smoothly and seamlessly as it had, they had only been "dating" for four official months before they moved in together. The house needed work, otherwise they wouldn't have been able to afford it, but it was theirs and they were both working toward paying it off.

But it was still _new_ to both of them. They were still _learning_.

And once the comfort of their "dating" had passed into the comfort of their "lives," they were realizing that there were still so many _firsts_ that they had to face, no matter how much they may have fast-forwarded through what were the beginning steps for most.

And the biggest first, it seemed, that was looming in front of them was Daryl's first lay off.

He'd been working at the same place, hauling bags of feed and fertilizer, for years. People said the economy was crashing, though, and the first evidence of such a thing that touched close to home for Daryl was that the Seed n' Feed in town went out of business. It couldn't stay afloat and, therefore, certainly didn't need employees. Daryl had come home absolutely devastated that day. He'd practically dragged himself through the door and he'd seemed so heavy that Carol had immediately assumed that someone had died—maybe even his brother Merle.

He'd land back on his feet, though. Carol was sure of that. A man like Daryl always did. He'd find a job, before too long, and he'd be working just the same as he had been. But at the moment? He was stuck in the downward spiral of believing that things were as bad as they could get and they would never be any better.

Carol didn't know how to handle it, either. Her experiences with Ed hadn't prepared her for Daryl's shutting down. When things didn't go Ed's way, he stomped and he snorted. He punched walls and broke things and drank and destroyed some more. His anger and frustration was palpable and he took it out on everything around him—animate and inanimate alike. Daryl wasn't like that. He was quiet. He pulled away. The air around him felt like _pain_ , but he didn't share it with Carol—neither in a negative or a positive way.

They had money. At least, they had enough money. Carol's job and their savings would get them through until Daryl found work. Carol wasn't worried about it. But Daryl only saw the lay off as a failure on his part. And he looked at Carol, too, like she would simply wake up and see it that way—and then she'd be out the door as fast as she'd come through it.

When Carol had exhausted reasoning with him, and when she'd exhausted trying to get him to talk about his feelings, she'd resorted to the most juvenile, perhaps, approach that she could. She needed to just distract him for a bit from his problems. Then he could start fresh.

When Daryl had gotten home from another day full of looking at jobs that just fell through, Carol took the truck and told him she'd be home shortly. She took herself to town, gathered up the supplies that she needed, and then she carried her spoils in from the truck and went about her business without pushing Daryl anymore as he sat on the couch and moped while something blared on the television that he probably wasn't even paying attention to.

Her plan in place, Carol finally prepared herself to go out into the living room and approach him one more time. She checked herself in the bedroom mirror, marched directly to the kitchen to gather what she needed, and then she went into the living room and stood there waiting for any kind of reaction at all.

It took Daryl at least five minutes to even realize that she was there, and that was really only brought about by the fact that she slowly kept sidestepping until she was blocking the television and had planted herself directly in his line of vision.

He stared at her, blankly at first, and then with a furrowed brow.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Well at least I know you haven't gone blind with all this—self-pity," Carol said. "I thought you could use a little cheering up."

She waved around the box that she held in her hand—his favorite donuts—like she was showing him a prize he might have won on a game show. For a split second, his frown cracked and he snorted to himself. He was a master at controlling his good moods, though, and he quickly wiped away any sign of pleasure that he might have at the moment.

"You got a damn job I can do in your drawers?" Daryl asked.

Carol smiled at him. She raised her eyebrows and shook her head.

"I _might_ have..." Carol teased. He wasn't receptive to it. She sighed. "No," she said. "But—I'm glad you noticed my _drawers_. It's the first time you've noticed them at all in a week."

Daryl hummed at her. He returned to nursing the beer that he'd been working on since he'd come through the door. Carol sighed and walked over to the couch. He wasn't going to invite her, so she invited herself. She moved to sit down, directly on his lap, and he finally moved his hands when he realized that his choice was either to clear the area or suffer through the fact that she'd simply sat down on his arms and pinned them to his legs.

Another half-smile broke through when she worked her way into his lap and leaned against him. He hesitated a moment, but finally he rested his arm around her shoulder.

"I don't know what you're up to," he said. "But I ain't in the mood."

Carol ignored him and worked on opening the box of donuts. Seeing that it was taking her a moment, Daryl put the beer on the table beside him and took the box from her. He broke the sticker that was holding the box shut and flipped it open before he handed it back to her.

Continuing to ignore his attempts at being unpleasant, Carol pulled one of the donuts out of the box and licked the chocolate icing that was threatening to drip onto her bare legs. She bit it and moaned about the deliciousness of the donut in a very dramatic way—after all, she wanted to get his attention. And his interest _did_ look at least a little piqued. Carol offered him the donut to bite, but he turned his face away from it like a child refusing food. She shrugged at him and bit the donut again. When she'd swallowed down that dose of sugary goodness, she leaned and kissed his jaw. He tried to turn his face away from her, but he simply couldn't strain his neck enough to escape, because when she couldn't reach his face she was unbothered and kissed his neck instead. She licked the skin there and sucked it gently to scrape against her teeth. Daryl shivered violently enough that her whole body rocked and she stifled a laugh. He could pretend, until he was blue in the face, that he wasn't the slightest bit interested in her offerings—but she could tell that parts of him were at least _trying_ to be on board.

"You want some?" Carol asked.

Daryl turned his head down a little, toward her, and she smiled when he rolled his eyes down in her direction.

"Of?" He asked.

Carol smiled and shook her head gently.

"Whatever's on the menu," she said. "You've got—a lot to choose from here. I mean—the donuts are assorted and...I didn't put on my _good_ panties for nothing."

He broke a smile, but only for a moment.

"I ain't really in the mood," he said.

"For which one?" Carol asked. He sucked his teeth at her. "Who says no to sex and donuts?!" Carol responded to the sound. "No to the one I could see—I'm on a diet. I have diabetes. No to the other—OK. I have a headache. I'm not in the mood. I don't really even know you. But—both?"

Daryl broke then. He'd given it a good run, but he couldn't stop himself from responding with amusement. He chuckled and, though he changed the subject, he couldn't erase his humor entirely.

"You realize that—if I don't find a job? We're gonna lose the house," Daryl said.

Carol shook her head at him.

"We're not going to lose the house," she said. "And you'll find a job. But you're not finding one tonight. So...sex or donuts? Because I could go either way."

Daryl growled at her, but she didn't believe his feigned annoyance at all. He hesitated another few minutes, just to make a good show of it, and then he snaked his arm under her and caught her tight behind her back. She barely had time to put the box down on the couch and grab his neck before he leaned forward and heaved himself to his feet, bringing her body with him. He readjusted her once he was standing and Carol clung to him to keep from making it more difficult on him.

"Sex it is?" She teased, kissing his neck again.

He hummed and stood still a moment before he turned around and tipped her like he might drop her on her head.

"Grab the damn donuts," he said. "You ain't never said I had to pick just one."


End file.
